Faith is a Powerful Thing
by Mist188
Summary: Spans over Harry Potter's fifth year. Harry has been conducted to the Order of the Phoniex, but he has someone to help him. Little does he know it's the youngest Weasley. H/G, R/Hr
1. Prelude

A/N: Now that I've deleted most of my old work, I think a new story is in order for little old me. I plan to clean up my act, seeing how my writing seems to have improved since last year, when I joined ff.net. Oh well…

Disclaimer: As much as I want everything to be mine, I own nothing. Isn't it a shame? I own a Harry Potter plushy, but that's about it…

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*~*~*~*

Harry woke with a start, his breathing irregular and hard. He found himself propped up in bed, and sweating profusely. He wiped his forehead in panic. He shook his head. That dream…it just kept coming and coming. It was like a lifetime of bad crime re-runs, watching the same person, a person you know without a name to their face, die in your mind, over and over again

.

He had been having the same dream the minute he came back to the Dursley's. He suspected Mrs. Figg had something to do with it. Whenever he was sent to her house, she acted strangely around him, as if he were as delicate as china.

The Dursleys, however, hadn't changed a bit. Harry was sure they had been informed about what had happened at Harry at school, but they showed no indication that they knew, or cared, for that matter.

He ran his hand through his unruly raven black hair shakily, his breath now slowing into jagged gasps. Harry reached clumsily for his glasses on his nightstand, fumbling over other objects over and around it.

When he found them, and placed them on the bridge of his nose, he felt a lump rise in his throat. Should he turn on the light or not? He shrugged, grabbed his wand from under his pillow, which he had placed there the second he went to sleep every night, and waved it silently, muttering. The light flickered on, and then burst with the amount of power Harry had enforced, and he was engulfed in the blackness again.

"Maybe a bit too much power…" he mumbled nonchalantly.

'_Ever since the 'incident'_, Harry thought wryly, of the Third Task, magic to fourth years and above had been permitted, in order to protect themselves. The Ministry of Magic had had a huge debate over this during the summer, and, by majority rules, many thought it was a good idea. Of course, student's use of magic was monitored as it had always been, and had grown with even more strict guidelines now that it was in the hands of fourteen year olds and above, but there had been no cases of bad handling…yet.

"Not that Fudge agreed…bumbling fool…"

Harry changed a lot over the summer, and he knew it. His friends had become a little tense around him, but cared about him the same. He knew that he had become a bit more cynical, and some feared that he lost his sense of innocence after his facing with Voldemort.

He strode over to the mirror and gazed at how he had physically changed. He still had his scrawny appearance, but it was slowly etching away. He had become paler, yet remained tan, and a little taller. He had thought about contacts, but the thought of plastic or glass flung over his eyes everyday made his shudder. Glasses were just fine. He lightly brushed his fingers over his scar, as he always did, and wondered at it's small, dull throbbing.

'_It doesn't matter though,_' Harry thought happily, staring at his reflection  '_because I'll be going to the Weasley's next week._'

He smiled brightly at the thought. After the Third Task, he had been invited to come any time he wanted, whether Dumbledore approved or not. He had liked this _very_ much, although he acted dispassionately about it.

Ron had grown sick during the middle of the summer, and had resorted to having his little sister write his letters to Harry, and had even stretched to have Ginny know about his confused feeling over Hermione, as she wrote them to Harry. Secretly, she would put little footnotes at the bottom from her, personally, usually joking about Ron's denseness, or something of the sort. Harry and Ginny had grown close over the summer.

'_All right,_' Harry countered himself skeptically, '_not close **close**, but closer then we were.'_

He nodded, satisfied with his answer, and stared out of the window at the dark night wistfully. She had changed, that was for sure. He shook his head, and changed the direction of his train of thought.

**[Harry Potter…]**

Harry jumped in surprise and fear. His lucid emerald eyes steeled themselves, the hairs on the back of his neck tensing; his fists clenching themselves until they were white.

He became paranoid.

            "Who's there?" he asked deliberately. 

            A ruffle from his bed caused his to spin around in panic, grabbing his wand quickly. The site that beheld his caused him to freeze in happiness, and mild surprise. He sighed with relief.

            "Fawkes?" he asked quietly.

            The bird nodded softly.

            **[Hello, Harry.]**

            Harry blinked in surprise.

            "You can talk?"

            [No. I'm in your mind, dear boy.]

            Harry frowned.

            "Is that possible?" he asked.

The bird shrugged, ruffling his feathers and landing on the bed.

[I'm surprised _you're_ not surprised. I thought I'd get more of a reaction…] 

Harry shrugged this time.

"I've been through a lot, I guess."

Fawkes nodded.

**[I bet you have.]**

"Why are you here, Fawkes?" Harry inquired, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall stiffly.

**[You have been chosen.]**

Harry's eyebrows knitted with confusion, and sighed, exasperated.

"That's happening too damn much," he muttered, pushing himself of the wall, "what _exactly_ have I been chosen for this time?"

Fawkes chuckled.

            **[The Order of the Phoenix.]**

            Harry's mouth twitched.

            "And that would be?"

**            [You'll see.]**

            "Great. Just great."

**            [Close your eyes, Harry.]**

            "Alright…"

            __

*~*~*~*

Floating…Just floating… 

_"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"_

_The young woman spun around and grabbed the other woman's robes. The woman's blue eyes burned with naked fear, her face dirty and and the remains of tear stains washed onto her face._

_"You have to help us! He's coming!"_

_The young red head shook her head fiercely._

_"There's nothing I can do!" she screamed to the blue-eyed woman in despair, "It has to happen!"_

_The woman threw herself at the redhead's feet. _

_Graffiti skies…_

_After several shades of brilliant green and red flashed through the air, the young red headed woman found herself in the wreckage of the cozy home she had just been in. There, the blue-eyed woman laid, blood seeping slowly from her temple._

_The young woman walked over to the bloodied woman, preparing herself mentally for the worse. She laid a hand on the shoulder blade of the figure, and flipped the body to face her. _

_Only blue eyes stared at her. Glazed in silent death._

_Floating…Just floating…_

*~*~*~*

Ginny turned her head half-heartedly to the clock, the pale face and hands empty. It was over. It was finally over. The frightened tears trickling down her face made her mahogany eyes sparkle with a misted magnificence.

The girl's ruby red hair was splayed all over her pillow, a great contrast to her white cheeks and sheets. She rubbed her eyes, which were darting around the room nervously.

"Fawkes," she whispered feebly, "I need you." 

A slight red and gold shimmer started to float into her mind, an image of a bird gliding into her mind, hovered over her subconscious figure.

**[I'm here, Ginny.]**

"I don't want to do this."

**[You have to.]**

"I'm afraid."

**[I know.]**

"Don't you _care_!?"

**[Of course, but it must be done.]**

Ginny sighed.

"I don't like this order."

She rolled around on her bed, letting her sheets fall off her limply.

[Ginny, the order does not control you dream intake. You were born as the Dream Keeper. That you will be. You are going to help the rest of the order.]

"But I don't even know who else is in the order!"

**[I added someone last night.]**

Ginny's tired eyes hot open in surprise.

"Who," she asked curiously, "would join?"

Fawkes smiled mischievously.

**[You'll find out.]**

Ginny shrugged and sat, running her hand through her jumbled ruby hair.

"I guess I will, but to the important thing of the moment. There will be an attack on the Central Gringotts Security Direction Center for the Cairo and Australian branches. They will be conducted at the same time; although the causalities suffered in the Australian branch will be higher then Cairo's."

Fawkes nodded grimly.

**[And I'm guessing it will be one of Voldemort's attempts?]**

Ginny sighed her consent.

            "Twenty Death Eaters in Cairo, thirty in Australia. That's fifty, Fawkes. Fifty. Do you know how many people innocent and working for Gringotts will be killed next week?"

            The bird braced himself as the redhead began to weep.

"Sixty. Thirty men. Twenty-eight women. Two children. _Children! _Do you know what it's like to watch children die, Fawkes?"

The phoenix remained silent as Ginny stared up at the ceiling in darkness.

"It's horrible," she continued, "absolutely horrible. They threw the children around like soft balls, and banged their heads against counters and registers, long after the children had died. The Death Eaters brought dogs with them also. You wanna know why? To eat the children! Those _monsters_ fed those innocent children to those dogs!"

Ginny gasped and broke into uncontrollable tears.

**[That's terrible…]** the bird whispered, shocked.

Ginny shook her head.

"That's not terrible; that's just the beginning. You must relay this to Professor Dumbledore. The attack must be known by him and Fudge." She whispered, closing her eyes.

**[Can it be prevented?]** Fawkes asked, knowing the answer.

Ginny shook her head, and broke into tears once again.

*~*~*~*

"Wormtail, come here you worthless creature!"

The squat man limped into the thin slate of light, the only source of brightness in the dim, empty room.

"Yes, master?' he whispered weakly.

"Has it happened?"

The figure nodded, but was cut short by the flood of pain that shot up his spin like a sharp, thin knife.

"I want you to answer me, not nod your pathetic head!"

The figure crumbled to the floor in the dull pain that echoed its scream through his dazed mind.

"Of course, my master."

A cold laugh rang around the room, bouncing of the wall and absorbing any warmth that might have been hovering in the dank air.

"Make sure the boy visits her and the family. I must have my weapon against the great Boy-Who-Will-Die!"

Wormtail gasped his agreement.

"Of course," he said, bowing towards the darkness in front of him, "I will attend to it myself."

Wormtail turned to go, his head hanging low.

"Wormtail!"

The short man spun around once again.

"Yes, Great One?"

Another cold, empty laugh boomed around the room as Wormtail screamed in mortal pain, his very soul shouting as his body folded to the ground.

*~*~*~*

_I swear to all those who read that I will be **much** more light-hearted later on, the way I usually am for those of my loyal readers. ^^;; Reviews are appreciated! I must have at least five before I continue, please? Thankies!_


	2. Of Dreams and Arrivals

A/N: I was completely surprised on how I had five comments so fast! Within a day, I had four…very scary…Anyway; I guess you all enjoyed my pathetic attempt at writing, so I really do hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and/or anything related to the series do not belong to me. (Except the twisted plot I am devising for my own cure to boredom.) ::Eats marshmallow::

***~*~*~***

"Molly!"

            A very mussed Mrs. Weasley dragged her feet slowly down the stairs at her husband's hurried call. Her red hair was slowly fading to gray, exhibiting her years as an at-home mom. Her worn bathrobe was a foot short than it should have been, and her house slippers had tiny little holes torn in many places.

            She walked into the kitchen quietly, seeing her husband in his also worn robes, his eyes wide in disbelief as he read the newspaper hastily. Ron, Fred, and George were outside, from what Mrs. Weasley could see from the kitchen window, de-gnoming the garden once again.

            She shook her head, turned around and opened the cabinet door on the wall, and pulled out a breakfast pan. Mr. Weasley seemed to notice his wife's presence just then, because he called out her name in distressed panic.

            "What is it, Ar-Oh, Sweet Merlin…"

**Attack on Gringotts: Sixty Dead!**

Article By Heather Brann 

_"This is an outrage! The Minister of Magic must take action right away. Sixty lives had been severed due to his and the Ministry's lack of action."_

_-David Collins, Head of Gringotts Accountant System_

_Whether this really is the Minister's fault or not, one thing is for sure. Sixty, thirty men, twenty-eight women, and two children, are dead. The magical community is in an unaltered wave of shock, and disbelief._

_But the question is: What happened? Last night, July 6th Friday, both Central Security Branches of Gringotts for Australia and the city of Cairo were attacked by what is believed to be the work of those who are called Death Eaters, the estranged "lackeys" of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Both incidents were conducted at the same time, but the hour difference is due to time zones, so this is a debated fact. Regardless of the time, thirty Death Eaters stormed the Australian branch, as twenty took the Cairo branch._

_In the Australian branch, the more devastated section of the two, the apparent goal was to breach security, and shut down all Pacific Ocean area Gringotts accounts. The Death Eaters stormed the compound, killing security guards, employees, and etc. A similar situation took place in the Cairo branch. No account(s) were shut down; Ministry Aurors and surviving Security Guards subdued the attack, but at the expense of many lives._

_Action is demanded, apparently, by most of the wizarding community, so Mr. Cornelius Fudge, the current Minister of Magic, will be under much pressure. He will be holding a public square meeting by Flourish and Blott's in London's Diagon alley on July 28th._

            Mrs. Weasley shook her head in incredulity. She placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, who put his own hand over hers. He sipped a bit of his coffee, and stood up.  He pecked his wife softly on the cheek.

            "I guess this means I better get to work quickly." He sighed, tying his shoes on.

            Mrs. Weasley nodded.

            "Be careful, dear. Do you know what time you'll be home?" she inquired, picking up the frying pan that she had dropped on the floor. 

            Mr. Weasley shrugged. 

            "I don't know, Molly. Just make dinner at the regular time, and if I'm not here, save some leftovers and I'll eat them when I get home."

            Mrs. Weasley nodded again.

            "Harry's coming today," Mrs. Weasley, gasped as Mr. Weasley checked his watch, " how are we going to get him."

            "He said he was coming his own way, and not to worry." Ron shouted through the window, as Fred and George made faces behind his back at him. The gnomes were sneakily running behind all of the boys' backs to their respected holes.

            Mr. Weasley nodded.

"Alright," he replied, glancing at his watch again, " well, bye dear."

            With a small _pop_, Mr. Weasley apparated to work, leaving a troubled Mrs. Weasley standing alone in the kitchen. Suddenly, she was seized with panic. A week ago, Ginny had been mumbling to herself about an attack, her face pale and her hands numb. She spat out babble, or at least that had been something Mrs. Weasley thought it had been at the time.

            "It can't be," Mrs. Weasley, whispered, "She couldn't have inherited it…"

*~*~*~*

            Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder as she waved at her friends, who sped off. Harry was supposed to be here by now, and she had made sure he was going to notice her, and the painstaking changes she had put herself through the summer for his attention.

She shut the door quietly, stealing one glace at the stunning radiance, cold and cruel in their graceful beauty. Her friend's mother had lent her the article about the attack about Gringotts this morning in the Daily Bugle before she and her friend's had gone shopping.

She flipped on the lights to the kitchen, to find a red-eyed Mrs. Weasley at the table, whose head was nestled in her hands. Ginny squinted in confusion at her mother, who didn't even acknowledge her presence.

"You have it, don't you?" the unstable voice of what sounded to be Mrs. Weasley's called out.

"Have what, Mum?" she asked curiously, taking her purse off her shoulder and sliding into a chair across from her mother.

The older redhead glanced up at her daughter, her eyes dancing with distress, red cracks slapped onto her eyes like sticky-tacks. She scratched the back of her neck, and straightened her posture.

"All the women in my family," Mrs. Weasley, "have been Dream Keepers, but for the last three generations, we had been skipped."

Ginny looked at her mother blankly.

"Wow," she said after a few minutes, stunned, "so I'm not crazy; it's genetics."

Mrs. Weasley laughed hoarsely.

"If you ever need any help," she countered, her daughter's eyes watching her every move, "I'm always awake."

Ginny smiled softly, trying desperately to assure her mother that she was completely fine.

"Don't worry, Mum, they're not bad at all." She lied, her mind forcing her to believe it also.

Mrs. Weasley glanced at her daughter lightly.

"Whatever you say, darling…whatever you say…"

Ginny rose slowly, her eyes darting to the floor.

"Well…night." Ginny said.

Her mother nodded in reply, and the youngest redhead crept up the stairs to face another night.

*~*~*~*

            Harry clutched the floo powder tightly in his hands, his knuckles white. He treaded slowly down the stairs, hoping not to attract any unwanted attention. He shrugged on his jacket casually, shouldering a backpack in one hand, and dragging his trunk in the other. 

He set both these at the foot of the spiraling stairs, and sighed, brushing off a bit of dust of his red shirt. His untamed assortment of hair was the same as ever, and his eyes sparkled like untouched gems, glittering with mad excitement.

Harry walked quietly into the kitchen, his hands still clenched, butterflies fluttering their way uncomfortably down into the hollow pit of his stomach. He shook away this feeling, hoping it wouldn't interfere with his case; the case he was about to present to his Uncle Vernon.

"Uncle Vernon," Harry said quietly, but confidently, "I'm going now."

The red-faced man looked up from his newspaper, apparently irritated at the fifteen-year-old boy's intrusion. He scratched his head, took a sip from his coffee cup, and turned casually back to his newspaper.

"And I suppose they'll be coming to get you from the sink." He muttered, disgusted.

Harry fists balled, and became ever whiter, is it were at all more possible.

"We're _wizards_, Uncle Vernon," Harry countered, relishing the fact that his uncle flinched as he enunciated wizard, "not dishes."

The meaty man slammed his fists on the table, and threw the paper onto the floor. His face, blotched with red, was suddenly there, as he shoved the boy towards the wall.

"Never," he replied threatingly, his eyes glittering with unrivaled malice, " say that word in my house again."

Harry smiled and pulled out his wand, which he had knowingly placed in his pocket.

"Yes, Uncle **_Vernon_**." He countered, ducking from the man's meaty hand, which was poised for his hands.

Harry, using his seasoned Seeker reflexes, sprinted towards the living room, grabbing his trunk and backpack, haphazardly threw the whole pouch of floo powder into the fire. As the fire roared, he jumped in quickly, seeing his uncle fumbling into the living room.

"The Burrow!"

*~*~*~*

"Having trouble?" Ron asked, as Harry apparated into the fireplace. The raven-haired boy fell flat onto his face, his glasses cracking under the weight of his head. He sighed, reminding himself that one day, he was purchasing contacts.

"Not funny, Ron…" he muttered, getting up and dusting off the soot from his shirt.

Ron chuckled lightly.

"You thought I was trying to be?" he asked comically.

Harry glared in contempt at his friend and said nothing.

"You're not really that mad, are you?" Ron asked, as he picked up Harry's trunk.

Harry's frown stayed glued to his face.

"It wasn't funny…" he repeated flatly to himself.

Ron rolled his eyes and dragged the trunk up the stairs, his friend following. As they passed through the hall, Harry's eyes slowly traced their way onto the door of Ginny's room, where a muffled sort of sound was floating.

"Hmm…what's Ginny doing?" Harry asked curiously, as he and Ron reached the bright-orange bedroom.

Ron grinned from ear to ear.

"Ginny and her friends formed a 'band' this year, just they way muggles do it. They all learned how to read music and such, except Ginny."

Harry shrugged.

"Why not Ginny?"

Ron's grin, if possible, grew much wider.

"She's the lead singer."

Harry took a step back in surprise.

"Wait," he said slowly, " this is the same Ginny that was shy and couldn't stand to be looked at from last year, right?"

Ron smirked evilly.

"She's quite outgoing, actually," he countered, "she was only like that around you, oh famous, cute, _perfect_ Harry Potter!"

Harry elbowed his friend, laughing lightly.

"Oh, be quiet! She's has to be over that crush already." He exclaimed, sitting on his friend's bed.

Ron nodded, his laughter frothing away in tiny bubbles.

"She has. I think her and Justin Flinch-Fletchley have something going on, actually."

Harry's eyes grew wide.

"That Hufflepuff?"

Ron nodded in disgust.

"They've been dating on and off all summer," he complained, sitting down across fro his friend, "she always talks about him and what they do. He's actually in the band. He plays…can't seem to remember. I know that's it's a fish or something of the sort…"

Harry burst into laughter.

"You must mean he plays bass. It's not a fish; it's a type of rhythm or sound." He stated.

"But," Ron countered, confusion apparent on his face, " the book said that a bass was a type of fish…"

Harry just laughed and punched his friend in the arm.

"You're too dense for your own good, Ron…"

Ron just shook his head.

"Muggles are so stupid, yet they're so confusing at the same time. I don't see how 'Mione stands muggle studies."

Harry shrugged.

"It's that or Divination, and, truthfully, I'd rather have a week of Snape then one lesson with Trelwaney…"

Ron nodded in agreement.

"No kidding." He replied.

Harry yawned.

"What time is it?" Harry asked.

" About eleven o'clock." Ron said, grabbing his pajamas from his dresser, "We can tell Mum and the others that you're here later. Right now, let's go to sleep."

Harry nodded, and grabbed his pajamas himself.

*~*~*~*

Mush shorter than I had anticipated, but Chapter two will be better, I guess; Just a bridging chapter. ^^

*~*~*~*

**Jay: I'm glad you enjoy. I hope you're around to review for this chapter! **

**Blank: It's really too bad you didn't leave a name, but I'm glad you appreciate my style!**

**Korn: Thanks for the comments. Much appreciated!**

**James: Why do I feel like you and Korn are the same people? If so, I'm really flattered…if not, thanks for your comments too.**

**Suki: I'm happy that you can relate my work to something; the funny thing is: I've never seen Angel in my life before. I'm glad you like and I also hope you review this one!**

**Kirsten: Shut up, joo! ^^;;**


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